


Split End Spit Fire

by Hambone



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Violence, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mentions of Dismemberment, Mild Genital Torture, Punishment, Revenge, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn betrays Kaon, Kaon talks to Pharma, Pharma betrays Tarn, and Tarn thinks on what he's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Split End Spit Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rotorhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotorhead/gifts).



> Commission for oilwrench (rotorhead) on my tumblr! I apologize in advance for not having as complete a knowledge of mechanics as you haha. Enjoy!

They were friends. It wasn’t policy but it was true; all of them, over time, had grown close. They worked in tight quarters over a pledge that bound them on penalty of death for the rest of their natural lifespans so it wasn’t unusual that they formed at least some kind of comradery over the decades. After all, if was unlikely any of them would have remained in the sect long if there was much infighting. Kaon remembered well a story told to him by Helix about the original Vos and the way he’d gone out.

Of course the term ‘friends’ had a very different meaning here as well. They were blood brothers, bound by law and spark, by the Decepticon Path. Its weight was heavy and left room for both fellowship and intimacy, something that they had come to take advantage of often. In a vacuum of both space and ethics it could mean anything from providing backup without being asked to physical and moral support, whatever that could entail. The job was all consuming and while to them it was a life chosen by their very core being, it could be draining.

So Kaon didn’t mind the arguments and intimidation that sometimes flew between them. He didn’t mind the strict rules and stricter punishments, the violence and the boiling hatred that came with it. Kaon certainly didn’t mind the interface, even if half the violence came through in that practice with some. He didn’t even mind when other parties were brought into the mix – it could be quite enjoyable to sandwich a nervous but willing low ranker at a small space outlet while they waited for their supplies to be filled, for free of course. He didn’t even mind Pharma much, despite his being Autobot scum and a coward at that. His hands were most dexterous, as Tarn often commented on, and thinking of him as the pathetic wretch he was under his high gloss finish and proud veneer made some of the games they played all the more exciting.

When they came together in private was the best. It was fun, easy, intense. Tarn had the kind of strength in his frame Kaon appreciated, the heavy weight that made him feel grounded beneath it. The manhandling, the crush – it all was a focus of their work, their goals, into a comradeship, the same unity of voice that made their cause, the Decepticon Cause, so strong.

He minded when that Unity was threatened by the very mech he trusted to hold it strong.

“Mm.”

Tarn’s voice, even in such a small murmur, echoed through his spark, making Kaon arch up off the berth and into his arms, cumming. Electricity spiraled up his coils, discharging into a preexisting black scorch on the wall that lingered from past encounters. Tarn held him off the berth even after the heady pleasure had dimmed, ensuring the safety of the softer metal of the berth  and wall before crashing down beside him, breathing a satisfied rumble of air through his systems. Kaon sizzled happily, heat pooling around them almost uncomfortably as he exuded runoff charge.

“You always come back from your pickup with such energy.”

He said it almost tauntingly, though respect was still clear in his tone. Tarn chuckled, optics flickering off as he let the warmth ping from his frame.

“Pharma does test my patience. It gives me something to bring home for you.”

Kaon smiled an empty smile at the ceiling. If he wasn’t so repulsed by the Autobot’s attitude himself he might have invited Tarn to bring him to their berth. Tarn, seeming to read his thoughts, turned to face him, the gleam of his teeth just barely visible through his mask.

“He’s not worth the trouble.”

He pushed himself up again, moving to hover over Kaon.

“Sometimes I think we should just gut him and level that pathetic facility.”

Anger was supposed to remain directed at the deserters, the failures, the Autobots. More and more though there was a darkness that followed Tarn back from his visits to the Delphi base. It made him a passionate lover but Kaon didn’t like the intensity that sometimes accompanied that. He reached for Kaon now, engine rumbling a low note.

“Not right now, please.”

He tried to sound humored but it fell flat.

“Hah.”

Tarn was not assuaged. Tightening his limbs, Kaon tried to arrange his face into a stern expression.

“Tarn, we just went. I need to wait until my cool down period is over at least.”

There was a pause. Though it was certainly not the first time Kaon had considered fighting his comrades in the DJD, he was now very seriously marking out the weak points in Tarn’s frame as his EM field prickled across it. Tarn already had him at a severe disadvantage but he had been in worse situations before. Besides, Tarn was his friend.

He swallowed thickly.

“… As you wish.”

Tarn rolled over and off the berth, brushing himself down shortly and leaving. Kaon wondered for the first time since he had found his home here whether or not he was safe. It was not something he was not accustomed to feeling and hoped he wouldn’t become so.

* * *

 

“Do you think I’m wrong?”

Vos shrugged noncommittally. They were watching the Pet tug a captive around by his arm, snarling and shaking his helm violently every few kliks in an attempt to tear the final few ligaments holding it to the graying torso. The mech had died pitifully, but he was only an incidental they had been carrying around for entertainment rather than a real target and therefore it wasn’t important. Any mech who tried to bargain for his life with credits didn’t deserve it.

“I’m not saying I think he’s gone off the path of justice,” he corrected himself, “just that he Autobot is affecting him more than we thought.”

Vos burbled out a thin line of sarcasm. He wanted to say something equally crude back but the Pet finally succeeded in her task of dismemberment and he had to turn and coo congratulations.  Wriggling until congealing energon spilled from the corners of her jaws, she lay down in the mess and began to gnaw. The familiarity of it lowered the guard of his emotions.

“No, you’re right. I’m overreacting.”

Vos nodded in agreement, fizzling something that roughly translated as “duh”.

* * *

 

But Kaon’s worry persisted. Tarn visited Pharma more often than his addiction necessitated and came back fouler each time. It wasn’t so much that the Autobot was encouraging his anger but that he incurred it, the unfortunate side effect being that, for whatever reason, Tarn was not willing to end their game of cat and mouse yet and insisted on leaving him alive. It was not interfering with their work so no one else complained, but none of them seemed to hold the same kind of emotional tie to Tarn as Kaon. Even Vos, with his slim frame, rather enjoyed the violence of his recent behavior instead of finding it unsettling.

So he swallowed his discomfort and moved on. They did travel a lot in the interim between visits to Delphi, and the just end of defectors always did lighten the spark. Tarn was brighter then as well, more himself. Kaon could see the itch growing, though, the itch to return to his doctor and receive his transplants.

He shouldn’t mind, he told himself. Vos was right. But was he?

* * *

 

Kaon had been in recharge when Tarn returned from the surface, so there was no warning until he was grabbed, awoken, and pinned beneath a great weight.

“Wh- Tarn!”

“Hush,” he murmured, and his spark contracted so suddenly it knocked all the words from him. They had just interfaced that morning, roughly, and he was hardly feeling up for more, still sore and uncomfortable from what had been slightly more than he had bargained for. He tried to sit up but Tarn pushed him down, a little too harshly, mumbling something he couldn’t quite make out, something vicious.

He had been to see Pharma again. That much was clear already, and now he was again expressing his frustrations in a way that was wholly unacceptable. Tarn pushed down against him, hot and wanting, and Kaon relinquished control, trying to just go along with it. Normally Tarn enjoyed toying with him, drawing out the foreplay, a show of control that Kaon found unbelievably erotic, but this time he was on him like an animal, like the Pet in heat, snarling lowly and pressing his spike inside before Kaon was at all ready.

He bit his lip, arching up into the pain. He wasn’t entirely against it during interface, and felt himself lubricating a little in response, but Tarn gave him no time to recover. The tug inside him was too harsh and he realized after a moment that he was going to tear, if he hadn’t already, and he grasped at the berth and tried to struggle backwards. Tarn pulled him back in such a strong, fluid motion that his processor spun for a moment, trying to reconcile itself with all the data input at once, fear mounting as he was unable to cope.

“Tarn, stop-!”

“Quiet!”

This time there was no edge of spar manipulation in his tone, just raw rage, and he slammed Kaon down, hard. His pace was quickening, the short snaps of his hips enough to shake Kaon off the berth if he weren’t being held so tightly. He kicked at Tarn’s hips futilely, the tread on his calves scoring small lines in his paint, clawing at his chest. Tarn grabbed his left hand in one of his own, squeezing until the pistons popped and scream and Kaon snarled in surprised agony. He threw his helm back, trying to relax, remove himself from the frustratingly violent situation, the confusion. If he’d wanted to he could have done more, could have electrocuted him until his circuits fried together, but he didn’t want to do that, he just wanted Tarn to _stop-_

Tarn overloaded, hunching in over him and grunting a single, inelegant sound. His hips shuddered into uneven jerking thrusts, a hot series of spurts inside him making Kaon jump at the sting. As if in afterthought, Tarn looked down, not meeting his gaze as the fantasy took over, and growled:

“Overload.”

Kaon did, against his will, howling angrily. He tried to pull off the berth but Tarn held him down, and his electric coils fizzled and snapped and discharged but there was no outlet and his plating was burning. All his sensory relayed whited out, and he could only hear a high pitched ring of static looping through his helm.

It did not pass. His fingers scrabbled for Tarn but suddenly his weight was gone. Kaon reached for him with his EM field but found he could not, found he could not feel anything, hear, see with the limited sensory input he had. He could feel though, sore, aching pain. He tried to sit up and in that moment the metal of his coils exploded into a million error reports, as if they had been ripped from his spine. He cried out, or at least he assumed he did, jaw aching, aftershocks of the impotent electrical outburst making him twitch and spasm.

He was alone, more so than he could have ever imaged. Complete sensory deprivation beyond the pain. Panic suddenly hit his stomach like a poison, making him scramble again, trying to pull himself up. Each movement made the hurt worse but, like a wounded animal, the burn only made him panic harder. Something wet touched his hand, wet and soft, and he reached to it, desperate. Teeth, nose, ears.

It was the Pet.

“Help,” he said, or at least hoped he was saying, “Get help!”

She moved away but that was almost enough to send him back into his panic again, the loss of touch could mean anything. He tried to suck it down into himself, air ventilating unsteadily through his vents as they struggled to open properly.

When another set of hands laid on him he jumped so hard a wave of pain set him reeling again. Something was fiddling with his neck, too faint in the confusion to make much sense, and then a voice was scratching a nervous note directly into his processor through the hard feed.

“Slag, hell and detritus. What happened?”

It was Vos.

* * *

 

 “I’m done. I’m done dealing with this. We are a force together, this should never have happened.”

Kaon, senses returned, waved his newly repaired hands animatedly as he talked. Vos was finishing the repairs on his valve and he didn’t want to focus on the feeling. Besides, he was angry. Furious, even. Tarn was their leader, not their enemy. It should not have happened at all.

Vos was very quiet, both because he was concentrating and because he was contemplating. It seemed he had been wrong about Kaon’s complaints being unfounded, but it was disturbing to think that an Autobot was causing this much turmoil in the ranks. Tarn was usually so unbreakable in his vows.

He finished and pulled back, watching Kaon grunt and shift as his calipers reset.

“What’s wrong with my discharge settings? I can’t channel electricity.”

Vos hissed.

Apparently his circuit card was broken. Apparently they didn’t have replacement parts, and he had been forced to call down to the surface of Delphi while Kaon was knocked out. Apparently his assistance should be arriving shortly, and he hadn’t wanted to tell Kaon because his assistance was the cause of all this in the first place.

Pharma walked through the door escorted by Tesarus and, hidden back in the darkness of the hall, Tarn.

 “What is this?”

Vos made several short and derogatory statements but it was clear Pharma understood none of them. Tesarus pushed him into the room and Kaon sat up, glaring. While his helm was held high it was clear Pharma was intimidated, as he should be. He was in the presence of his betters, after all.

“We need your assistance.”

It was the first time Tarn had spoken and, as angry as he was at the interloper, Kaon could not help but shoot him a look as well, one that he was satisfied to find made Tarn turn his optics away by a quarter of an inch. It was high ground for them.

“You did this, didn’t you?”

Pharma walked over, clicking his heels with determined loudness. Kaon held his helm high, sneering a bit as the Autobot leaned in, but it was a kinder look than it would have been if Pharma didn’t seem to be showing some actual emotional response. Tarn did not come closer, crossing his arms.

“You don’t need to question how it happened, just fix it.”

Pharma seemed to bite his own tongue, optics rolling so only Kaon could see. He was warming up to the medic already.

“It’s important to understand how the injury happened, even if I _am_ just replacing a circuit card. I know my profession better than you do.”

Tesarus chuckled quietly until Tarn spat at him.

“Just get it done.”

He left, and the remaining members of the room faced one another.

“It seems we have something in common.”

* * *

 

Tarn wasn’t overly apologetic when they next met in private, but that was just his nature. Kaon took it very personally anyways.

“I want to earn your trust again,” Tarn drawled, drinking lightly from a cube, “but you cannot expect me to simper for it.”

“I don’t,” Kaon mimped, “but sincerity would be a good place to start.”

He had been repaired for several solar cycles now, the long kind Delphi had, and this was the first time he had even deigned to be alone in the same room as Tarn, much less acknowledge him. perhaps it was childish to play the silent card for so long but he felt wounded in an intimate way, as if he weren’t an elite member of the most lethal task force in the galaxy and were simply a Decepticon foot solider betrayed by his commanding officer.

“Sincerity is something I can give you, if you tell me how.”

Tarn set the cube down and looked at him directly then, piercingly. He was glad for his lack of traditional optics then. He had been in fair fights with Tarn before, and it was difficult to forget them when faced with such a gaze. Still, as law said that they could physically battle for dominance when it was right, to hurt someone on your level intimately and without cause was unjust and therefore he had the upper servo. He just needed to keep hold on it.

“You want to know how?”

He slid into a more upright position, finally allowing a smile to split his face.

“An eye for an eye.”

* * *

 

This was how Tarn found himself in Kaon’s room again, but from a position he had never been privy to before. On his back, arms and legs spread eagle, bound.

“I don’t believe the entire set up is necessary,” he intoned. Kaon smiled over him, a hint of hardness in his jaw.

“You made me helpless. Now it’s your turn.”

Tarn sighed and laid his helm back, not at all caring for Kaon’s attempt at intimidation. However he did deserve to be punished. It was their law and he had broken it.

“If that’s what it takes. Proceed.”

“No, I don’t think you get to call the shots right now.”

Kaon circled him, trailing his fingers lightly along the berth.

“I don’t think you get to call anything. You attack me, several times, because you’re frustrated at some lowly Autobot’s machinations, and when you attempt to apologize it’s hardly even sincere.”

He pulled a face that could only half express the disgust in his spark.

“We are a unit. We are a team. We are brought together by a common goal and you saw fit to shatter that unity because you were feeling _emotional_?”

He pulled back.

“I don’t even want to look at you.”

Tarn felt a small tug of disquiet inside himself. He was tasked with keeping his division together, strong, unified under the cause. Had he failed?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to if you want to continue acting out your anger.”

It was not spoken as a challenge. Tarn relinquished his power.

“Actually, I don’t.”

The smirk returned to Kaon’s face, slow but true.

“I’m done with this. I’m done assuming you understand what’s best for everyone at every time just because you are the most effective and you know our purpose best. Good leadership should reach beyond the public to the personal.”

He turned towards the door but gave Tarn a parting glance.

“I have arranged for your punishment to be fitting, however.”

As he passed through the frame, Pharma walked in. Tarn snapped to attention again.

“This is unfitting. He isn’t one of us!”

“He was enough to make you abandon our rules before,” said Kaon, shadowed by the hall, “perhaps he’ll be enough to drive you back to them.” And he was gone.

“Well, well, well,” said Pharma, rubbing his hands together cartoonishly as he approached Tarn’s prone form. Tarn felt no fear but a rising anger inside him.

“This is a mockery of our system,” he spat, “you’re less fit to torture than to tease.”

Pharma’s chest expanded sharply as his wounded pride flooded his spark chamber.

“Your system, as you call it, was broken by no other than yourself, and I believe I can sufficiently fit the bill of your punishment.”

He stepped up, surveying the vast body beneath him with interest impure. Tarn scoffed but said nothing.  He deserved this.

“Well then, let’s begin.”

Pharma pulled a small scalpel out of subspace. Tarn watched, disaffected, as Pharma played it down his leg, not cutting, just observing. He knew the doctor was not well as of late, knew he was driving him mad, and the game of it had been fun, but now grew tedious. He was not grand like the Autobots thought themselves. Decepticon power was the power of modesty when necessary, moderation in living. Pharma aimed to be some kind of royalty, whatever that constituted of now, respected by everyone in the medical community who had spurned him, jealousy and madness driven.

It was pathetic and Tarn could not muster fear for him.

He did just when the scalpel was suddenly turned to bite into his thigh, trailing inward to the thick protrusion of his crotch. It wasn’t a deep cut and his sensory relays had been dimmed down to near unsafe levels eons ago, but the natural defensive instinct inside him made him clench his fists. Pharma trailed the blade around the exposed pelvic cording between leg and pelvis, cutting small notches into the metal. Tarn scoffed.

“If you are trying to imitate my assault on my partner you are doing a poor job of it.”

“Of course I’m not trying to copy you. That would be pointless! I’m nowhere near as strong, large, and ruthless as you are…”

Pharma leaned over him, purring the last few words as he traced the blade around Tarn’s interface seams.

“Now, I wasn’t there for all f the repairs, of course, but your ratty little friend was able to inform me of most of it.”

He turned and pushed the blade in deep, neatly beginning to sever the panel cover. Tarn instantly reacted by trying to retract it, annoyed by the charade, but Pharma grabbed it before he could, holding the mechanism steady as he finished his work. He pulled it off with a neat click, wiping wetness from his fingertips.

“Wonderful.”

Tarn huffed, shifting in his bonds. He did not like this angle, with Pharma in control, and Kaon clearly had not forgiven him at all. He was still the leader of their team and the strongest among them. His apparent weakness of will towards the Autobot being known seemed like punishment enough, and yet they strove to worsen his condition with this proud prat?

Noticing his discomfort, Pharma smiled.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re ashamed of being bare before the doctor?”

“Hardly,” said Tarn, voice low and level, “I am merely disgusted by your weakness. At least make me feel what you are doing if you intend to continue.”

“We’ve only begun! Don’t be so impatient.”

He crawled up onto the berth, sitting up on his knees between Tarns legs. Splaying his fingers across the retracted, limp cable inside its housing, Pharma shot him an impish look, skittering the scalpel around in his other hand.

“You’re right: I cannot recreate what you did to your friend – excuse me, _former_ friend.”

Moving the scalpel down, he traced a thin line, not hard enough to cut, on the housing liner.

“But I have my own ways.”

Abruptly he pulled back, putting the scalpel down on the berth and reaching into his subspace for something else. As he did so he inched up to straddle Tarn, scooting forward until his hips rested in the larger mech’s chest. He pulled out a common gag, fingering it gently as he eyed the slit in Tarn’s mask for his mouth.

“Really,” said Tarn, almost rolling his optics, “this is starting to feel like you don’t intend it to be a punishment at all.”

“Hush,” said Pharma, and with that he stuffed it into Tarn’s unresisting maw. He didn’t care as he felt the dampener lock into his jaw, stifling his greatest weapon. What could Pharma do?

Pharma slithered back down between his legs, and immediately Tarn regretted that thought and he leaned down and began to pry his fingers into the seams around Tarn’s valve.

His interface equipment was just as strong as the rest of his frame but still significantly more sensitive. He was allowed to loose the panel himself, the course, thick lips of his valve immediately being capitalized on by Pharma. He was rough, and it was uncomfortable, but nothing really painful. Grunting quietly, he steadied himself as Pharma used his thumbs to spread him open, humming in a high tone.

“Hmm. A bit dull.”

Tarn scoffed and Pharma slapped him, right across the valve. That made him jump, startled and appalled. Pharma smiled, smacking him again. It wasn’t damaging him, particularly, but it hurt and the continued pressure was confusing his sensor net. At the same time his small hands were worming their way over the head of his spike, coaxing it out of its chamber. He was not particularly aroused but Pharma knew the correct pressure points to click that forced him to pressurize begrudgingly. Biting down on the bit, he growled as Pharma smirked.

Again he reached into his subspace, pulling out a small ring which he slipped down the shaft of his spike and secured via magnets. Tarn was privy to its use – an inhibitor ring, one to repress the overload he was not anywhere close to building. He scoffed again and earned himself another smack.

“I’m in control here,” Pharma said, and with a click his panel was off and he was lowering himself down to balance over the head. Tarn watched him, curious.

“You’ve been bad,” he purred, “very bad,” and he reached back and slammed three fingers into Tarn’s valve while simultaneously pushing the head of Tarn’s spike inside himself. He was dry and unprepared, not to mention a little sore, and it was direly uncomfortable. He grunted again, this time out of pain, and Pharma laughed breathily, already very wet around him. That alone was enough to make his interface protocols actually fire up.

The moment they did, the ring around his spike zapped him with a shock just painful enough to startle him out of it. Pharma rocked back and forth on top of him, thrusting his fingers lazily as he chuckled.

“Surprised?”

Tarn narrowed his optics.

“It’s something of my own invention. Keeps the fun out of things where it’s not necessary.”

He lowered down another inch and Tarn was shocked again, the moment pleasure began to build.

“Hones in on your sensory relays and reroutes any pleasure data as a mild pain. Meant to suppress the chronic masturbator, something rather annoying to deal with in a clinic.”

He could see the strain in Pharma’s face as he spoke, working more of Tarn inside himself while his fingers scissored his dry valve.

“Are you liking this, you animal? Is this what you envisioned when you pressed your comrade into the berth and forced him through it?”

He slammed himself down, not able to take all of Tarn by any means but getting him in good and deep, and Tarn jumped at the shock that gave him. There was pleasure in this, but it was drowned by the annoyingly painful jump of shocks and the way Pharma was twisting and turning his fingers. It was making him lubricate a little, making him frustrated, but Pharma just added another finger to allow the burn to seep in and purred, gyrating his hips on his erotic throne.

If eroticism was something that Tarn was capable of appreciating at the moment.

He turned away but he could still feel it, intimately, and he had known Pharma well enough to envision him perched there, smug and full. Another sting hit him with every push, and he was furious, suddenly, because the realization of how pathetic he was now hit him with full force. He must have been obvious because Pharma laughed again and tucked his thumb down, shoving his fist halfway inside Tarn’s valve. He had not been stretched in a while and the burn made him buck, Pharma almost squealing on top of him at the sudden movement and his spike _ached._

He knew Pharma was close when arcs of electricity began to snake about his hips, wings twitching up and down in his peripheral vision. Pharma was not silent about it either, moaning in that awfully overdramatic whorish way of his that made Tarn want to strangle the life out of him, and his fists clenched even harder around his bonds because even that warrant him pain as his spike pulsed.

“Mm,” his fist pulled out with an unfortunately wet pop, moving to grip Tarn’s thigh and dig in hard as he rode him in earnest. Tarn could feel the build of energy and it hurt, almost blinding him as the data began to clog in his processor while dueling sensations rose and fell, pleasure and pain, anger and, strangely, remorse. Rage fueled by embarrassment. What a sham this all was.

Pharma came and it was agonizing, one electrical discharge mingling with another. He felt the bit splinter in his mouth, metal and plastic bits scattering on his tongue, but he was not prepared to use it and Pharma rode out his apparent ecstasy in peace.

When he was fully returned to his senses, Pharma had hopped off and was cleaning himself up with some cloth too nice to be a rag. He gave Tarn a small look, solemn again.

“I may not be an expert on Decepticon relations, but you really slagged yourself on this one, didn’t you?”

Tarn spat bits of the gag out but said nothing. He was right after all. His spike was still straining against the ring, aching. Sniffing dismissively, Pharma turned and left, the door sliding into place to darken the room, and Tarn, as Kaon before him, was left to wait.


End file.
